Oblique
by Silverhineko
Summary: Francis McKnight didn't want a child. Too bad the child wanted a father. Forced into his new role of fatherhood he raises Harry to the best of his non-existing parenting skills while trying to stay loyal to his lord, Voldemort. HPLV dark!Harry
1. Chapter 1

It was just one of those nights where you don't seem to catch any lucky breaks. As soon as you step outside it starts to rain, downpour, as if someone was waiting above you with a bucket over your head. Waiting for the right opportunity to dump it over you. The kind of night that you always seem to get stuck in, locked outside your house or car. Searching your pockets, making a mental list of all places where you could have possibly left your keys. Until finally! Your fingers hit the cold metallic feel of keys. In triumph you pull them out. Only to fumble with what keys actually unlocks your car door.

"Useless muggles..." Francis McKnight muttered to himself. Followed up with, "Damn Ministry." The Ministry of Magic passed new regulations, monitoring the magic used in the general vicinity of muggles to an extreme extent. One couldn't even cast a simple drying spell without someone, somewhere recording the time and who did it. This was their big ploy to find rogue wizards that torment helpless muggles for their own sadistic pleasure. McKnight knew this to be a useless move. One that would just be a waste of time, effort and resources. Only the small fish, the stupid and young "rogue" wizards would be caught by this. The smarter ones would just find ways against the monitoring, take out the ministry officials in the area themselves or just find better, more efficient means. Francis knew firsthand ways to commit crimes against muggles without raising any suspicions from the wizard world. Like the saying goes, when in Rome do as the Romans do. When killing muggles, kill them as muggles do.

Fishing out the right keys, he jumped inside the car seeking shelter. Bulletproof vests were a pain to wear when soaked. He drove quickly and wildly, knowing the streets all too well from his prior week of casing the roads out. Lake Ave led directly to Main Street, which the 24B train stopped at. His train would be arriving at 1:43am. Stay on the train past its so called last stop and then see where you end up. Hogsmeade. An unmarked stop of course, but it's easy enough for any wizard or witch to find out which trains stop inside the magical world.

Everything was going according to his plans. Ditch the car, leaving the keys in the ignition, some fool would come along and take the car, evidence, away for him. Keep a low profile which was considerably easier due to the horrible weather. Not a soul was wandering or loitering about.

'_10 minutes',_ he thought to himself already thinking about what he'd do first when he got home. It was down to sleeping or eating, although he wasn't much of a cook. It was nights like these getting a house elf seemed ever so appealing and the paperwork it required so much less irritating.

Movement caught his eye. A small shadow of a figure ran for the cover of the station, the rain pelted anyone who wasn't smart enough to use an umbrella. Once under it the figure collapsed down. Whoever it was they weren't waiting for the train, McKnight mused to himself. Moving towards the station, he betted it was just some homeless addict. The streets were crawling with homeless junkies of drugs and alcohol. McKnight felt no sympathy for them, they choose their own fate. His hand inched closer to the knife he had hidden on him, in case the person grew violent or tried to mug him.

Upon reaching the station's cover and closing his umbrella he saw it wasn't some old drunkard. It was a boy. A young one at that, maybe eight if that.

"Boy." Francis started, "What are you doing on the streets at this time? Go home." He commanded. The kid flinched as if struck and large green eyes peered fearfully at him.

"Well come on! This is the last train for a couple of hours and you're late going home as it is." He stated ushering the boy inside to the train station. McKnight could see the headlights of the train coming. The boy didn't put up a fight at all, but Francis could feel the fear and confusion direct towards him. As late as it was, being pushed around by some stranger, he couldn't blame the boy.

They both got on, McKnight paid the fare for both himself and the boy and then went into the furthest train compartment in the back. Light footsteps followed his own as he slid the door open. The boy came in and shut the door slowly, and sat across from him, casting a questioning look to him.

"Why aren't you home?" McKnight started, pissed at himself for having the kid come with him. People tended to remember guys with young kids in the dead of night on the train. Also the kid got a good look of his face.

"They kicked me out..." The boy's voice was filled with emotion.

'_Great, just what I need_,' Francis thought. '_He better not cry. I refuse to deal with that now_.'

"I'm sure your parents love you and want to you to come back home. Things just got out of hand." Francis said dryly. Middle class parents getting into a fight with their kid. Kid takes it too harshly and stays on the street or a few days to 'show them'. Yawn.

"No. I'm staying with relatives... My parents are dead, never met 'em." The kid informed him. Francis looked at the kid. He was way young to be getting into the whole teenage struggle with his parents, err relatives, he corrected. His eyes surveyed the kid. The boy had thick glasses and looked like a drowned rat and he was tiny with bruises and discolored skin on the visible areas, his face and arms.

"How old are you?"

"Seven." Was the timid reply.

"And they're mad at you why?" Seven, what could a kid do to get kicked out and abused at seven? McKnight already felt his heart go out to this unknown kid who more than likely went through misuse. He knew what that was like, he lived through it once. Mentally, McKnight cursed his soft heart and told himself it wasn't a good idea to get involved with some kid's problems. He wasn't a therapist or anything.

"....Bad things, they sometimes happen around me…" The kid admitted after a long silence, staring at the ground as if something fascinating was going down there, refusing to make any eye contact with him.

"What kind of things?" He asked interested, a wizard kid would be easier to deal with. He could get him dropped off at a magical orphanage or something.

"Abnormal things." Francis could tell the kid clam up. He wasn't going to say much more on the subject he knew. Reaching out he pulled the kid's chin up, forcing him to look at him. The kid flinched back, but his eyes met Francis's grey eyes. Bright green stared back at him and if fear and those large coke glasses weren't dominating them Francis knew they'd be rather pretty. Something else caught his eye, a scar. His hand moved and moved the slopping wet hair out of the way. A lightning bolt scar marred the kid's forehead. An unusual scar which he could feel a strange sort of magic pulsating off of it. Francis knew of one important magical lightning bolt scarred boy.

"What's your name?" He asked breathlessly, this couldn't be the same boy. Running into the boy randomly without any prior intelligence in the middle of the night at a train station, it just couldn't happen.

"Harry Potter." Harry answered confused.

"Francis McKnight" Francis mumbled back his introduction, not quite believing his luck, yet knowing the boy spoke the truth.

And on this seemingly unlucky night, Francis McKnight did catch a break after all. He caught a break and gained a new roommate.


	2. Chapter 2

Key: 'thoughts' and _italics _are thoughts

"Spoken"

-----------------

It was easy enough to get the valuable kid back to his apartment. Which Francis was glad of; an unplanned kidnapping with a half dozen witnesses would have been a bitch to pull off.

But no, in the end all he had to do was give an offer of somewhere to sleep and the kid, Harry jumped at the idea. Albeit with a tired, cautious look on his face, one that said 'I don't trust you yet' which was fine. Dealing with an idiot on top of a child would have been bad enough. Formulating the beginning of a plan he tentatively decided to hand over the boy who lived to his Lord. He stopped and rethought that, 'Perhaps I should just keep him a secret… Just for now.' It started off as. '_My mission was a success; maybe I should wait until I need to pull out my Ace card, for when things go bad. Plus, I'm more than just a little curious of what happened with the savior-to-be. How'd he end up in the middle of muggle London and his past.'_

Assuaging his own curiosity first wouldn't hurt anyone. Nor would waiting until he wanted to get out of a crap mission would bother anyone, unless that is the Dark Lord found out first he had been sitting on something this juicy. Then the only thing hurt would be himself from a round of crucio.

"So, you been sent to live with your relatives after your parents died?" It was time to get the story straight.

"Mhmm." Harry agreed while stretching out on McKnight's sofa. It looked like a small house from the outside, the inside however was a different story, Harry was trying to figure out how it all fit and where did all that extra space come from.

"Muggles who hate you and kicked you out two weeks ago."

"Muggles?" He asked curiously, he heard this word a few times from the man and every time it was said it held such contempt in it. Likes muggles were the scum of the world, whatever that was.

"And no one told you anything?" Questioned Francis.

"I know a lot of stuff!" Harry protested.

McKnight grunted. Seems like he was going to have to give a talk about the wizards and all that with him. What a pain. He'd do it later.

Harry yawned, it was after 4am and he had yet to get any sleep. It was a long train ride until they got here.

"We'll go get some clothes for you tomorrow." Eyeing the large tee and the pair of boxers he gave him to wear, which were like long shorts on the kid.

"Uhuh…" Was the sleepy reply.

Sighing, Francis decided to continue making plans tomorrow, the kid wasn't the only one tired here. Francis left the kid on the sofa to sleep and retired to his bedroom for the night.

It was a few hours later Francis woke up to the feeling of someone staring at him. He discreetly opened his eyes and seen the kid he brought home early just standing there staring. His face contorted in thought. He waited, wondering what the kid wanted.

Harry was having an inner debate with himself. He woke up cold and alone in the dark. Before he knew it his feet moved him towards the older man's bedroom. He wanted to get into the bed, but wouldn't that be weird? What if the guy, Francis freaked out? Harry remembered how Dudley was able to sleep in his parent's bed when he had a bad dream. Maybe that excuse could work for him too.

Slowly, Harry lowered himself on the bed, watching the man's face carefully for any movement. It was a large bed and Francis was in the middle of it, plenty of room for him. Harry's face flushed with embarrassment, this is stupid he thought, but couldn't stop himself. He let out a shaky breath when the man didn't wake up and started yelling at him.

After a few minutes Harry started to drift back to sleep with large goofy smile on his face when a large arm grabbed him and pulled him closer. He tensed up shocked, but nothing happened after that which he was glad for. If Francis uttered one syllable he knew he'd die of embarrassment. Harry slept real well that night; he was warm and for the first time in his life close to someone. He hoped dreamily that this could happen again.

Sleeping with someone else in the bed was a strange experience for Francis. Especially when it was with a younger boy. He started to feel like a creep, "I'm not a pedophile," he mumbled to himself. He glanced over at the sleeping boy who he had a stupid look on his face. "That's it." He picked up the kid, roughly waking him up.

"Hey!" He giggled and started to flail about. "Put me down!" He kicked about laughing.

Francis carried Harry to the living room and plopped him down on the sofa and had Harry put on a smaller robe he charmed to fit him. Harry gave a look at the robes, but didn't protest much.

"It's 1pm. We're going to get you some new clothes and from there I'll let you wonder around Hogsmeade for a little bit. I have to give a report... We'll meet up at the fountain at 3 O'clock. And if you been a really good boy we'll get some ice cream."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid!" Harry said seriously, he hated to be talked down to.

"Sure thing. Then no ice cream then."

"H--Hey! I never said all that now..." He protested.

"Oh yeah. Magic exists, I'm a wizard. You're a wizard and this is a port key." Francis divulged the news and activated the port key. McKnight never had much experience giving life altering news.

-----------------

Thanks for the reviews! Love the feedback everyone.

On a related note, I'm very pleasantly surprised the positive reactions to my oc, Francis. Ocs tend to have a very bad reputation in every fandom and not without its merits. It's a shame, since supporting ocs, minor ocs and no-consequence ocs they're useful in their own rights.

Anyone worried about Francis becoming the main character need not worry; Francis McKnight will just be very important figure to Harry. Although the story will change to his pov sometimes... And he'll serve as a reason for Harry in the later...

Edit note at a later date: I can't believe how freakin' short this chap was! It didn't go over a K or anything _+ I can't believe I posted this! D': Well, I can honestly say it'll never be this short again. Sorry!


	3. Chapter 3

Key: _thoughts_, 'thoughts', "Spoken"

* * *

Harry was floored by Francis's words and by the strange feeling the object gave off that was thrown in his arms. He felt like he was getting squished into a tube, crammed inside of it and then popped out the other side. The other side was much different than the house he just came from. Crowds of people were scurrying along, all in similar robes that he himself was wearing.

Magic. Could magic be real? It would explain how got where he was, Hogsmaid, or whatever Francis told him. It would explain him teleporting onto the roof to get away from Dudley and his gang. It would explain why the Dursley's hated him; they always hated anything even a bit 'abnormal.' And it'd explain those talking snakes in the garden.

It made sense; it made a lot of sense.

"So, my parents were... they could do magic too?" It'd explain why Petunia and Vernon never liked them, and why he felt that they were lying about his parent's death. The details, the model and color of the car, the time the accident occurred always changed in retelling.

"Yes."

Harry felt numb as he was led to Madame Malkin's and measured by floating measuring tape.

"What type of cloth do you want your robes made of?" The kindly old women inquired.

Thankfully, Francis answered for him for all except the gloves, where Madam Malkin launched into a frenzy of materials. Listening to their names Harry picked out Peruvian Vipertooth, whatever that was. Apparently a Peruvian Vipertooth was a dragon, or so claimed the lady. Dragons, they sounded interesting. When the woman scurried off to the backroom he turned to McKnight.

"Are dragons real?" He asked shocked, maybe it was one of those renaming things. Francis just smirked and Harry felt uneasy. He could just imagine walking down the street and blam! A dragon swoops down and eats him. Harry grimaced at the thought. Being crapped on by a dragon was another option. How fun.

Shortly thereafter a package of clothing was given to Harry and Francis paid for it. Francis called his owl and shrunk the package right before Harry's eyes, then sent it back home. Walking out of the store he was pulled aside.

"Here, we meet up at this fountain at three, got it? That's in two hours." Francis said, placing an emphasis on the time.

Nodding twice, Harry was left on his own for a little while.

He stumbled down the street, trying to not look like a tourist while he gazed in shock at this new world before him. He had a feeling he was failing miserably and thought maybe he should have just worn some floral robes.

Suddenly, another thought occurred to him. Pedophile, what did that mean? Francis used it back in bed. Looking around he found a mother lazing about, watching her kids run around playing. She looked honest enough to answer him.

Walking over to her, "What's a pedophile?" He asked innocently, making sure to blink his eyes owlishly. The lady stiffened up and was silent for a few moments before she finally choked out, "I-- It's a person... who loves children too much."

"Well, what do they do?" He persisted.

She looked as red as he did last night and Harry inwardly smirked. It was nice when it wasn't him feeling so embarrassed, although he wished she'd hurry up and answer the question already.

"Pedophiles," she hissed out, "Are very bad people who would touch you.... down there. You stay away from strangers do you hear me! And why do you want to know--"

"My mommy, she uhh... mentioned it and, well... she didn't explain it," he stuttered out and ran away. That lady looked like Petunia when she was in full out rant mode, which never boded well for young Harry. An angry, ranting Petunia meant lectures and then punishment when Vernon came home.

'_Francis said he wasn't a pedophile. Francis doesn't love children, so he can't love me,' _Harry thought. '_Although, how can touching be bad? He touched me earlier….' _This confused the young boy. '_Maybe the lady didn't know what it meant either and she just made something up?'_

Harry wandered the streets, trying to figure out a way to make Francis love him, when he saw it. A big pink, glowing neon sign that said "Love Potion." Harry scampered closer to the store. '_Love Potion...So if I give Francis this, then he'll love me and keep me?' _Entering the store he looked around. It was filled with women, distracted and talking. The store smelled overwhelmingly of flowers. No one was paying him any attention, which is how he liked it. He carefully pocketed a sealed bottle with the title "Amortentia" on it and the sign had a bunch of other words like, 100 percent guarantee and best love potion available on it.

He carefully walked out of the store, not too fast or too slow. He went into an alley and pulled out the bottle with a victorious smirk adorning his face, and then examined the vial for directions. It didn't have any. "How much do I give him then?!" Harry said aloud in frustration. The whole bottle? A few drops? He would have to come up with a plan later. Getting back to the fountain was first priority and he wasn't quite sure where he was right now. All he knew was that he would probably be late getting back to the meeting place.

Francis was pissed. Turn his back for two hours and then the kid goes out and gets..... Well, whatever happened to him. He leaned against the wall, waiting a bit longer just in case the shock of a new world to Harry made him lose the time. He envisioned all the possibilities that could have happened. Going off with another stranger, being kidnapped, someone figuring out who he was and taking him to the Ministry or Dumbledore...

It wasn't just the kid was growing on him, or that he liked to think about not coming home to an empty apartment. Having someone caring if you lived or die; it was attractive to say the least. But, the kid was also his responsibility. If Voldemort ever found out that, not only had he kept Harry instead of turning him over, but the enemy also reacquired him on top of all that, there would be hell to pay.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the one year old who survived an Avada Kedavra curse cast by Voldemort himself and reflected it back at the Dark Lord missing him by mere inches. He was quite the anomaly with his mysterious protection. If Voldemort could be convinced the boy could be an asset to him then… then Harry would be safe from the man. He would make him into a powerful ally. It's the best he could do, to train Harry's unreached potential.

His eyes flew open when he felt a small figure glomp him.

"Found ya." Harry said with a grin on his face.

"Considering I wasn't hiding and I was where you were supposed to be, I doubt it could have been much of a challenge." He replied dryly, reprimanding the boy lightly.

"Oh, com'on! I seen that look on your face; you were worried about me!" He insisted happily, preening at the thought of someone caring about him.

"Why would I worry about brat like you? You'll survive though anything. You're like a cockroach." Scoffing, Francis tried to ruin the kid's beliefs that he cared about him. Next thing you know the kid would be intruding in his business and running to him to kiss his wounds.

"I'm in no way similar to a bug, and you promised ice cream. Hurry up and let's go!" Hungry from all his exploration, he tugged the man in a direction that he hoped would lead to ice cream.

"I don't believe our agreement has been fully met. And, you're going the wrong way."

"I-- I was good!" There was no way the older man knew about his little misdeed. The love potion in pocket suddenly weighted a ton. "You just left me on my own, it's not like I had directions or a map." He protested the man's harsh decision of none of the promised iced goods and pouted for good measure.

"Don't fret," Francis ruffled Harry's hair. "I'm just playing with you. Ice cream it is. Now, think about what flavor you'll get. I'm thinking about Mantecore liver...." And he contorted his face in a 'yummy' expression.

"Ugh! You're sick!" Making a face of disgust, Harry played along. He was pretty sure that the older man was just playing with again. This was the absolute best day of his life.

* * *

After they finished their ice cream, Francis apparated them back to the apartment. He cautiously placed a bag of newly purchased goods on a nearby table, a bag that Harry didn't notice him having. Curious as a cat, he went towards him, leaving enough distance to flee just in case. Francis called him closer yet, making him grimace at the similar grunts and the all too familiar nickname "Boy" that Vernon had bestowed him with. He wasn't with Vernon; '_I'm with Francis_,' he reminded himself. Other than Francis's lack of manners and sometimes snowy disposition, there was no comparison to Vernon. The older man was soft hearted; his very presence was proof of that. Obeying, Harry hurried nearer to him.

"Yeah?" Wondering what could possibly be in the bag.

"Sit." And as if there was a collar around his neck, Harry sat down so quickly he felt minor backlash. He looked expectantly at Francis, waiting for further instruction.

"Good boy." Francis smirked at the kid's obedience. "Now close your eyes and don't move."

Harry's eyes fluttered shut, trusting his savior explicitly. He felt something wet touch his forehead. Then a pause, a curse and then felt something being wiped off.

"You are not a golden beige." Harry's eyes opened in confusion. Golden what? Bottles. There were bottles lined up on the table next to him. Little, small glass bottles with strange tan-ish colored fluid. A damp rag touched his forehead and gently rubbed.

This time, Francis knew better than just to open a bottle and smear it on Harry's forehead. He picked up two bottles and held them to his kid's face. "You're not a natural or a beige either." Harry stayed quiet. What was there to say; sorry?

Three more bottles came and was compared to Harry's complexion, a word McKnight was fortunate enough to never know until now. He squinted, moved closer and then grabbed the last color. Holding it carefully to Harry's cheek, cold glass met his face and Harry shuddered. Francis moved back in place, just as close as before, and gave a little laugh.

"We have a match." He smirked, looking into Harry's eyes just scant inches from his face. Then, in a silky tone, as though answering life's greatest mystery, he chuckled and uttered. "Nude." He spoke with such a gleeful tone and mirthful expression that Harry couldn't help but to burst out laughing from the hilarity of it.

"W--what was all that about?" Harry managed to get out, his laughter coming to an end.

"Your scar." Francis tilted his head slightly, as if it should have been obvious.

"Yeah, so?" Harry tilted his head in question. Francis quirked a grin at the similar gesture to his own.

"It's too noticeable. Anyone who sees it will know who you are instantaneously." Drawing up, he became serious and all the previous mirth disappeared from him in a flash. "The second people find out who you are..." Francis stopped talking abruptly. He could tell Harry about his parents and who he was, but Francis wasn't sure this was such a good idea. Lying would be worse, but if he didn't mention it to the boy... He'd tell the kid later, in a few years when more permanent bonds were formed. After all the kid was only with him for such a short time and just found out the Wizard world existed... Not that Harry would be with him that long. '_It's just a precaution_,' he told himself.

"That scar is very... recognizable..." He started again, carefully thinking how to evade any questioning about it. "Do you want to be sent back to those muggles?!" He stood up quickly, as if the thought just crossed his mind and seemingly got ready to return the lad.

"No! I... I just didn't think about that. I-- I wanna..." '_Stay with you,' _Harry finished to himself, but was too embarrassed to dare say it. "I don't want to go back to them," he finished lamely. "I promise I won't tell anyone who I am. I'll make sure not to reveal myself," he gave a solemn vow.

Francis gave a calculated smile; this was the response he was hoping for. Brightening up, he steered them away from such serious talk. "If you go out in public you'll have to cover up your scar with this," he held up the bottle of Nude concealer. "I mean sure, there's magic to glamour it, but with magic some people can feel it, see it. To the stronger wizards it would shimmer and then they'd be enticed to find out what it was hiding. It's better with the muggle way... It says its waterproof so even if it rains it shouldn't wash off. And if you cast a repellent spell it won't matter anyways." Chattering again, Harry seemed to relax and forget about his scar.

"Don't forget to use a fake name if anyone asks. I keyed you into the wards so we don't have to worry about that."

Harry just nodded as if wards made any sense.

* * *

Harry was sprawled out in the living room, reading rather dense book about magical theory, use of raw magic and basic rituals. Complicated, but Harry understood about half of it, after reading and digesting the same pages religiously. Idly he thought he'd be able to recall the whole thing from memory in a few more days. Reading the same book over and over again for a month tended to do that to you. It was a faded leather bound book that he choose off of Francis's personal library. Francis gave him a long glance when he chosen it, but didn't bother to say anything; it's not like he had any kid friendly books.

"We'll go out again soon and pick up proper education supplies for you," Francis said causing him to look up from the book. After a few minutes of silence he went back to reading, thinking that was it.

"But, now we'll get your wand." He continued, speaking quietly as if he was making idle chit chat than talking about Harry getting a wizard's most important tool.

Harry's head snapped back up and slammed the book shut, eyes big and excitement rolling off of him in waves. "Now?" He repeated in a whisper. Getting his wand... A dreamy smile fluttered over his face. Finally, he would be able to practice some of the spells he had been reading about. Then he could at last prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a wizard and he belonged here. Glancing shyly at Francis, he thought of all he could learn from the seasoned wizard.

"Now." The wizard repeated in confirmation.

Harry's eyes darted to the clock and a protest formed on his lips, "At this hour?"

It was 1:26am; no shops would be open at this time. All law abiding citizens would be asleep by now. He knew Francis wasn't a straight laced gentleman; he kept peculiar hours and went off for work reasons in the dead of night. Plus, Harry had come across weapons stashed around the whole house, but he'd never mention it to the man. It wasn't his business, and he didn't want to offend Francis by prying. He believed that, one day, the man would allow him into the fold. Besides, it was possible that Francis had made an arrangement with a shop keep. '_Vampires would be up at this time_,' he thought vaguely. Getting his wand and meeting a vampire, this would be a most interesting night!

Francis didn't bother to reply to Harry's query and just elected to throw a black robe at him. Quickly, he pulled it over his muggle clothes that Francis generously bought and gave him when he came back from one of his late night jobs. The rest of which were in his upstairs bedroom he hardly used.

A blithe mood settled over the young boy as he was transported to the shop where he was to get his very own wand from.

Portkeys, apparition, floo powder, Harry was getting very familiar with them. He didn't even feel nauseous or uneasy with their use anymore. He followed Francis, who slinked down the street towards their destination, Ollivander's. Harry started to rethink his idea that anything was set up for a purchase. The street was almost wholly covered in shadows and the robes obscured their forms from any passerby's, which there wasn't. Alarm bells were ringing in his head; it all just seemed suspicious. Pulling up his hood, his nerves jittering, he tried to walk as silently as he did when he was sneaking around the Dursley's house after the nightly lockdown.

Halfway down the block, Francis froze. Harry quickly followed his lead and halted. Eyes darting around to see what the problem was, but seeing nothing, he debated asking his guardian. His questions were stopped by the expression on Francis's face. Total concentration, he was standing rigid and was obviously not paying any attention to anything else, but some unseen force. 'Magic?' Harry guessed at. 'What is he focusing his magic on? I'll ask later,' he told himself, when they obviously weren't breaking into a shop.

Hearing the echo of a nearby noise, Harry became nervous, wanting to warn Francis of pending discovery. The man seemed in a trace though; he remembered the dangers of distracting a wizard in complicated spellwork. And for what? An animal or a group of drunks? He decided to check it out first. He moved as quickly and as quietly as he could, wanting to get this over with. Nearing a corner, he peeked around it; Aurors. The Magical Police. There were three of them and they seemed to be on patrol, although they seemed to be doing it light heartily, laughing among themselves and drinking instead of the seriousness one might expect. If they turned the corner it wouldn't be long until they seen Francis. He'd have to do something. Harry wished he already had his wand or that he took a weapon from Francis's stash.

Harry waited for his chance and it came just a few minutes later when the Aurors stopped. Two of them took a swig of their drinks and the other was talked animatedly. He flitted across the corner down the nearby alley, making sure to catch the Aurors attention.

"Hey! Who's there?!" Harry heard footsteps running towards his direction.

"Just come out with your hands up." One of them ordered.

Suddenly, he felt grateful for all those Hunting Harry sessions Dudley had. The back street he was in seemed to be a dead end, only a small fence was in his way from another alley. Running up and climbing nimbly over, he briefly waited for the cats to be enticed into chasing him. If he lost them too soon, they'd give up and go back to their rounds, nearing Francis. If he got caught they might end up sending him back to the Dursley's. This would be one hell of a Hunting Harry game.

He figured they were properly enticed when a red light came at him, a Stupefy spell, he absently noted, recognized it as one of the spells Francis showed him. Dashing down the alley, he heard them send off another curse and Harry turned to see if it was headed his way. It luckily wasn't, the spell hit at the fence he jumped and he saw the fence blasted out of their way. Apparently, Aurors weren't use to giving chase as muggle cops were. Another Stupefy came his way and he was forced to duck lest he'd be hit by it. Rolling back to his feet he took off again.

"Get back here!" One of pursuers roared from behind him.

Harry felt a strange heaviness in his pocket. He put his hand in and pulled out a knife. 'Does everything Francis touch have weapon in it?' He mused to himself. Taking the knife in hand he ran towards a closed shop and struck at its window, breaking its glass. He jumped in and took out the back door. Breaking and entering, vandalism, Harry smirked. It was a real reason for Aurors to catch him instead of just some wizard running from them. '_Is Francis done yet? How am I going to find my way back?' _He might have spent some time in Hogsmeade, but only in the daytime. Francis was probably, hopefully, done and he was far enough from his original street. If he lost the Aurors now, they would still look around for him and he could go get his wand. '_I had better still get my wand tonight after all of this!'_

Looking around, he worked out his location. He turned a corner and hid in a small dead end alley, praying that the Aurors would continue going straight, and thus losing him. Success! He saw three figures speed off right by the alley he took refuge in. Panting and out of breath, he thanked his lucky stars. '_Now I can try to double back...'_ A hand suddenly gripped him from behind and his heart jumped out of his body. Somehow, the Aurors had caught him. Soundlessly, he was spun around and there Harry saw his attacker; Francis.

Relief filled him and he smiled and shoved at the man, trying to convey his feelings without being loud as the Aurors could still be around. Francis merely smirked at him and motioned for him to follow him. They made it back to Ollivander's and instead of stopping outside like last time, they went directly in and Harry was finally able to talk.

"What was that all about? You just stopped--" Harry started, incredulous about the whole night. '_Maybe this all will make sense tomorrow?' _He could only hope.

"Had to take down the wards. That's one of my specialties you know, wards." Francis countered. "It's not like you can just break into a wizard shop in the middle of the night and expect nothing to deter you. The wards would have tipped off the Aurors immediately and we certainly wouldn't have any time to find your wand." He informed the clueless boy.

"You mentioned wards before..." He muttered. Somehow, he knew there was more to it than just wards.

"You run surprisingly fast kid." Francis ruffled his hair and looked proud. Proud? For what? Harry wasn't happy at this; he couldn't have set all of this up right? But, this was Francis; if he did it wouldn't shock him.

"You didn't! Why! How! What could you have possibly learned from this?" He started to accuse the man. '_I'm onto your scheming! I just don't know why yet.__..__'_ He glared at the man, desiring an explanation of all of this.

Francis wordlessly cast a lumos for light and began the daunting task of finding the kid his wand. "I did what now?" He asked feigning innocence as he handed wand number one to Harry to try. "Now, just give it a wave." With a sigh, Harry did as told. It's not like he could just force answers out of the man. '_At least I'm getting my wand_,' he reminded himself.

As wand after wand had been thrown back in its box, Harry had time to think. Francis would have learnt the Aurors movements before breaking into here. He found tons of paperwork, pictures and blue prints in stacks around the house. Francis meticulously kept records of... well, of something. 'Probably a log of his every job.' After he was gone for a couple of days working, he'd come back and write for hours. So, if he did know about the Aurors and probably faked the time he needed to undo the wards... But why? The only thing he could possibly gain from this would be... '_What I did. He wanted to find out how I would react...' _A big why foremost his mind, what did Francis really gain from this?Taking him in, tonight... everything_. 'What does he get out of this?' _Questions filled him, ones that Harry knew he wouldn't be able to answer anytime soon.

Another wand was snatched out of his hand and some other wand took its place.

"Not this one either!" Francis was getting frustrated at this, the longer they were here the higher the chances of them getting caught. A few wands didn't give off a horrible reaction like setting the place on fire, but none of them gave any positive responses. He stopped and looked around the shop, searching for the rarer wands the shop keep put aside.

"Why didn't we just come during the day?" Harry asked baffled.

"Because, Ollivander keeps a record of every wand sold." Francis grunted out, and continued his systematic search of Harry's wand. '_The boy better be grateful for all this trouble.'_

"And you bringing in a boy to get a wand is strange, how exactly?" Persisted Harry. Coming in during business hours and having Ollivander to find his wand would be much easier than this.

"It is when I don't have any kids. Someone might start snooping around." He answered distractingly, looking for combination he didn't try before.

"Sorry, forgot you were paranoid." Harry mumbled to himself and took a seat. Were they ever going to find the wand that would become his? Did it even exist? His hopes started drying up, maybe this was the proof he wanted all along. '_Maybe I'm not a wizard after all.' _Grief and despair filled him, if he wasn't a wizard, Francis wouldn't keep him. Abruptly, a memory came to mind; The Love Potion! He had forgotten it as Francis told him of spells and creatures. '_I'm sure there's a book in the library that will tell me the proper dosage for it!'_ Excitement took the place of despair. With that potion he could safeguard his position. Francis _would _keep him; he'd make sure of that. Plans for the potion's use began.

Most of the rarer wands were just unusual combinations or had parts of exotic creatures in them. One of them caught his eye, an East Indian Rosewood wand, eleven inches. Not that uncommon of a wood; however, it had a phoenix core. While they didn't naturally die, they also didn't breed too readily, making wands with phoenix parts was very rare. Something else about this wand caught his attention though, but he couldn't figure out what.

"Try this one." Francis passed the wand to Harry who gingerly accepted it. Upon waving it, a shower of lights came from it. It felt so... right. Familiar, perfect.

"East Indian Rosewood... Nice, does very well channeling magical energy, dark magic particularly..." He trailed off, noticing the boy wasn't even paying him any mind. "Don't just stand around like a dolt! We've been here long enough, let's go." With that he pulled the boy with him out of the store, not bothering to stop to reinstate the wards, Ollivander would be able to sense the change in them even if he did. The man was very sensitive to magic, a trait he inherited from his family. Francis just apparated them back home. It didn't matter if Ollivander went to the authorities; he made sure there wasn't a trace of either of them left.

Barely waiting to get back inside the house, Harry started trying to cast spells immediately, pestering Francis to help him when a certain one wouldn't work properly.

"C'mon kid, I want to get _some _sleep tonight. I was going to start training you tomorrow anyways...." Francis learned too late that it was the wrong thing to say to a kid before bedtime. Harry was too hyped up to sleep and kept him up all night long, fidgeting.

Francis started to regret getting the brat his wand.

"If you don't stop right now." He started when he couldn't take anymore, "I'll get up and break your wand in two." He threatened gravely, making Harry freeze and glare up at him.

"You wouldn't dare." The boy hissed out.

"Why don't you sleep in your own room, instead of with me?" He grumbled, twitching at the boy's defiance. Where was the good, obedient child he brought home?

"Why should I?" Harry said, becoming defensive at the reminder of where he was sleeping.

"So I can get some sleep damnit! If you keep this up, I'll change my mind about teaching you!"

And at long last, Francis McKnight was able to get some rest.

* * *

**Definition of Oblique**: Diverging from a given straight line or course. Indirectly stated or expressed; not straightforward, indirectly aimed at or reached, as ends or results; deviously achieved. Morally, ethically, or mentally wrong; underhand; perverse.

**Definition of "Glomp**": It is the action of one person lovingly (and dramatically) attacking another with a hug. A glomp is often predatory and lies somewhere in the grey area between a caring embrace, and a flying leap to tackle someone.

Due to the frequent moaning about chapter **length**, I made this chapter longer. Congrats reviewers! You did it! Without you saying anything the chapter would have ended way up there up. Right before the makeup scene. =\

This chapter was beta-ed into submission by my **Itoko, **and** Herd**. You people should thank her for it, else this would be well... a nightmare.

I want to express my thanks at **FadingStarlight**! Who had the idea for the makeup scene. Credit goes to her.

Thanks for reviewing last chapter! If anyone gets the 'hidden' references in this chap, say so in the review. ;) Thanks for reading! Use the blue button below and take care!


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm terribly sorry Mr. Ollivander; it's incomprehensible that someone managed to break into your shop. Rest assured there will be severe consequences for the guards who allowed this slip to occur. If you do find anything missing the Minister of Magic will personally reimburse you for any losses. The perpetrators of this crime will be found and punished immediately."

Amelia Bones was beyond annoyed at the half-wits that allowed this fiasco to occur. Merchants, scholars and travelers alike were already leaving at an alarming rate, as if they could sense an ominous destiny approaching. _'Cowards, the lot of them. Merchants are always the first to flee_ _and the first to return to salvage materials from ruins.' _Sighing, she hoped that this wouldn't be enough to cause the older man to leave. Practically everyone got their wands at Ollivander's. If he left what kind of sign to the unsuspecting populous would that send?

She glanced at the half empty streets, thinking back on a time they were full. People bustling here and there, kids running underfoot getting into mischief. _'That was such a long time ago.'_ Amelia's heart was heavy; she knew firsthand what happened to the lost generation. Most laid dead, choosing to side and fight with either the Light or the Dark. Snapping back to attention of her current surroundings, she ordered the nearing investigators around.

_'Who could possibly dismantle the wards around here?'_ She pondered trying to figure out her newest mystery. Ollivander's shop had wards upon wards stacked on top of each other, blended together. They were ancient, placed on the shop when it was first built in 382BC and the knowledge to create or remove them was long lost. As she watched the investigators work, they were trying to analyze trace amounts of magic, she hoped for a lead to help her carry out a productive search.

The two magical investigators looked up and shook their heads; they couldn't find anything. Until now there was just a simply an uneasy feeling looming, whispers and gossip. Now wards were being taken down without so much as trace of magic left behind, without anyone seeing anything. A cold sick feeling filled her, realizing that if a person could dismantle these wards it wouldn't be too much of a stretch if they stripped down the Ministry of Magic's wards. In fact it would probably be much easier; the wards on the building were much more modern and simplistic.

_'I'll request more guards on the floors,' _she thought trying to reassure herself this was nothing. A wand shop and the largest government office... One may get away with breaking into the shop, but in _her _ministry nothing went on unnoticed. There was always some employees working late, they would take notice. Yes, a building full of grown and powerful wizards and witches. Amelia chided herself; honestly she was working herself up for no reason. _'I'm getting too old; I'm seeing monsters in shadows and fearing for the worst. This is just an unrelated event in the scheme of unruly, rebellious youngsters.'_

* * *

Ollivander debated reporting the theft of Voldemort's brother wand, but came to an answer as he saw the concerned look on Bones' face. Must he worry everyone over something so trivial? If Voldemort needed a wand, the brother wand of his old wand would be a more than acceptable fit, but Voldemort would have left the dark mark over the shop.

'_It's been quiet for so long... Perhaps he truly was vanquished that day.' _Besides if He Who Must Not Be Named was in his shop, he'd be able to sense it, he told himself. Someone with that sort of power couldn't hide all of it. No, this was merely some fanatic follower that wanted to feel closer to their dead master by having the brother wand of their master by them.

There wasn't a need to give more fuel for mindless gossip, nor to trouble Dumbledore about it. He might have wanted to know to who and when if he ever sold that wand, but getting the Order worked over something so petty would be a waste. They had better things to do with their time, like rounding up escaped convicts and cowardly death eaters still on the run. Yes, he'd rather have the Order searching for death eaters than some vandals.

Others might have a strange faith in the old wards, but with the newer ones layered over on them... A conflict between the wards creating a weak spot wouldn't be so impossible to occur. It wouldn't take the work of a Master of Wards to remove them. Ollivander ignored the fact that if it was some young dabbler of wards magic the wards would be contorted, and not entirely removed.

* * *

While Harry did stop fidgeting and did go to sleep, he didn't stay that way for long. As soon as the crack of dawn hit and it could technically be called tomorrow, he woke up Francis. Unfortunately logic didn't matter to the other, who still apparently wanted to sleep a bit longer. And Harry was quickly barred from the room and told to go somewhere else. Which was fine, he could entertain himself for awhile.

Going to his normal haunt, the library, his eyes caught on a book's title, "Complete Guide to Potion Witchcraft and Brewery." 'Potions!' Harry's mind remembered the little vial he hidden away. He was distracted from it for far too long. He was a wizard, and so far he did have a place in Francis' household, but it couldn't hurt to ensure his position a little. Besides, Harry really wanted to find out what it was like having someone to love him, and only him. This was the perfect time to research the potion a bit, since Francis was sleeping away. His hand shot out grabbing the book. He bet it didn't have anything about Amortentia in it, books in the muggle world also preached about how complete they were, only to be lacking or omitting something. But, it wouldn't hurt any to give it a quick look.

Opening up the huge reference book he found it was sorted alphabetically. Flipping through the A's he observed he was wrong. They did have Amortentia mentioned in it. It was just a few pages about it, but he read it greedily. The book had the ingredients and directions on how to brew it, the pearly sheen color the end product, how it would take effect instantaneously, how someone would appear under its effects, but nothing about the correct dosage to give someone. 'Yes, because after you brew it you don't need a little piece of information like that!'

He was getting frustrated. 'Maybe I should just give him the whole bottle?' It seemed like a one serving size. He was debating the pros and cons of this when some text caught his eye.

_"Creates powerful infatuation, but it cannot manage to create the truly unbreakable, eternal, unconditional attachment that alone can be called Love."_

'Infatuation? This is supposed to be the strongest love potion in the world, but it doesn't even make the person love you?! Why do they even call it a love potion then?' With a sigh, Harry began to review his options. If it wasn't going to make Francis love him, should he still give it to him? He wasn't quite sure what the difference between infatuation and love were, but did it really matter? 'It's not like I'll know the difference, no one ever cared for me before. If this is the only way I can have him love me, then so be it.' He would pour the potion in Francis' coffee that the man drank every morning, and then Harry would enjoy the closest thing to love he could ever have.

Just as he made up his mind Harry heard noises of movement coming from what he guessed was Francis' room. A familiar call rang out in the silent house, "Brat! Breakfast time." Even if brat wasn't such an endearing name, he still preferred it over boy. Placing the book back in its place, he made a dash to his room to grab the potion. It was in a sock of his he placed in the farthest corner under his bed. The sheets were still perfectly in place, he didn't care to sleep in his bed, preferring Francis' bed and company.

As normal as he could, he waltzed into the kitchen and greeted the other wizard as cheerfully as he would any other day. 'Would it be so wrong to drug him?' Harry quietly began to eat his breakfast, pondering. Francis' coffee was still being made by an enchanted coffee maker.

McKnight was as awake as ever, but didn't make conversation with the boy. He wasn't much of a morning person, but he noticed the quietness of the kitchen, a quiet that hadn't been around since he took the boy in. Raising an eyebrow in question, the boy just looked at him and smiled around his mouthful of eggs and shrugged. 'Well, I suppose not even the boy can chatter about when eating.' A fact he was grateful of, mornings should be as quiet as possible. But, he did miss the nonstop questions the kid seemed to always have.

Francis opened the Daily Prophet and he searched for any mention of Ollivander's shop. Turning through the whole paper he found in fact it wasn't. He was fairly certain that Ollivander would notice the removed wards and would report it. 'If they didn't mention, then either the Ministry is keeping this quiet, or it's being written off.'

Breaking into Ollivander's shop, it wasn't something he particularly wanted to do. It could bring attention to him, well, not him exactly, but it could make people aware of the fact there was someone out there who could dismantle wards. Not just any wards, but ancient wards.

The element of surprise was something Francis liked to keep on his side. But, if he was to train Harry to be of enough worth to Lord Voldemort so that his Lord would decided to keep his young charge alive than dead, to serve... For that Francis would have to have Harry well versed in magic, which the wand was imperative for. 'Not only magic,' His mind supplied. 'You'll have to train him to have a wide variety of talents. Teaching him to fight with weapons as well as magic would be a must. And wards,' Francis knew the importance of someone who could both create and destroy wards. It was one of the reasons he was so valuable to his lord after all. The art of weaving wards was one that was often looked over, so much so it was nearing to be lost entirely.

A chirping noise brought him back to his senses. It was the sound of his coffee maker letting him know it was done. He started to get up to fetch it, but was stopped. "I'll get it for you." Harry offered and stood up to get it.

"Thanks?" Francis offered and shrugged. He could've gotten it.

When his back was turned to the other wizard, he placed a hand in his robe and pulled out the potion, unscrewing the top off of it. Harry retrieved the cup and stirred it with a spoon, seemingly to make sure it's ready for the other, and poured the entire contents of the vial into the drink. Pocketing the empty vial, he stirred the coffee again, looking at its color carefully. The potion was a pearly color, but the coffee was brown and murky and it hid the potions in its depths. It was undetectable to his eye, and it hadn't taken long to actually drug the drink, 'Francis won't suspect a thing.' Harry thought with mixed feelings, did he really want the wizard to only like him because of a potion? But, it was too late now to turn back, he was already handing the drink off with a smile.

Francis placed his coffee down, still looking over the Prophet. Their little escapades yesterday may not have been mentioned, but he was curious to what else occurred.

He wanted to stare, to watch Francis drink it, but he wasn't consuming it! Just reading the paper. Harry's nerves were jumping all over the place. He couldn't just stare at the man, it'd make him nervous. Seeing another paper laying about he picked it up. 'Bah! Wizard stocks!' It was from today's paper, but the section was only about wizard stocks, something Harry had no interest whatsoever in. Putting it back down, he glanced at Francis. He placed down his paper too and was picking up his cup!

Francis' eyes met his and for a second Harry's widen in shock, feeling caught, like the man knew. Luckily, he recovered quickly and blabbed out a question.

"Have you ever seen a dragon close up?!" Harry's voice was a bit higher than usual and he spoke in a rush.

Taking the cup away from his lips, Francis answered with a simple, "No. I haven't." The boy was acting a bit strange, maybe he was just nervous about the training he said that would start later today. Lifting the coffee to his mouth again, he thought he smelled something funny. Confused he looked at the coffee for a second. He didn't see the kid put anything in it, like sugar or cream. But no, there that smell was coming from his coffee. It vaguely reminded him of some potion he brewed awhile back. What was it again?

Anger filled him; Francis placed the cup down and turned to the boy. Guilt was written all over the kid's face. The boy stood up in apprehension, warily watching him as if he was a bear who made its way into a campsite. The child was only seven, he reminded himself. And he was mistreated in the past; Francis lowered his wrath, wanting to get to the bottom of things.

"You mixed something into my drink." He stated, not accusing.

"...Yes?" Harry meekly agreed. "I-- I didn't... Well, I did mean to, but... It... it wasn't going to hurt you or anything..."

"What was it?" He wanted some facts, some coherent explanation.

"Amortentia." The boy stated without blinking.

"The love potion? Why would you-- ," Francis was dumbfounded into silence. 'Why the hell would a seven year old boy attempt to give someone Amortentia?'

"Because I wanted to make you love me. Then you'd keep me here and..." Harry was embarrassed, but thought it best to explain things. Maybe if he did Francis would just forgive him and not get rid of him for being bad. "And I like being here with you, so I figured if you I could make you like me, you'd want me to stay. I mean I learned that it wasn't really a love potion and it would just make you infatuated with me, but that's probably not too far from love right? And why do they call Amortentia a love potion if it doesn't make someone love you?" Harry started to babble on and on.

Francis just blinked, strangely flattered that someone would attempt to go through such lengths to get him to like them, but still. The boy wanted someone to care for him, that wasn't such a horrible crime. Not for the first time, McKnight was filled with the urge to pay a visit to Harry's relatives. Did the boy think he was so unlikable he needed a potion to get someone to tolerate his presence? "And you had to drug my coffee with this potion because there was absolutely no way I could just like you, without the potion?"

"Well, you said you weren't a pedophile. If you don't like kids how could you like me then?" The boy tilted his head and spoke with the tone that said it should've been obvious.

His mouth dropped open a little bit, Harry heard him that one night! "Wh-what do you think a pedophile is?" 'And can you tell me who did I manage to piss off in a past life?'

"The lady said it was someone who loved children too much. And you said you weren't one so that'd mean you didn't like children at all."

"What lady?" Francis asked with a horrified expression.

With a shrug, Harry answered. "Dunno. Some lady I asked in Hogsmeade. Was she wrong? She said something about them touching you wrong or something. How can touching be a bad thing?" Innocent eyes met Francis'.

'Oh god.' Francis rubbed the palm of his hand to his face. How was he supposed to answer that?! "Where... where did you get the Amortentia from anyways?" He was not going to answer those questions.

Harry looked away, with guilt on his face. "I... came across it at a store in Hogsmeade and just took it. They had more."

Francis still didn't know what to say. A kid tried to spike his drink with a love potion, asked some woman about pedophiles and stole. Frankly the whole thing was all just so odd he wasn't even angry anymore.

"You're not going to make me go because I was bad, will you?" Harry asked in true fear.

"No. I'm going to keep you." He reassured. "You don't have to worry me getting rid of you. If I didn't want you around, then you wouldn't be. You're going to stay here and study. That's what I want you to do, work hard and become..." Francis paused; useful wouldn't be a good word to use on an impressionable young kid was it? "Strong." He finished lamely.

"You're not mad at me?" Harry perked up. Francis more or less said he wanted him to stay with him! Delight poured through him. Magic was interesting; it'd be great to study it!

Yeah, how was he supposed to be mad at the kid for that crazy mess? It was cute, in a morbid way, how much the boy tried to worm his way into his heart. If Francis told Lucius this story he was sure the other would find it hilarious.

"Naw. But do it again and you'll suffer the consequences." Francis gave the kid a stern look, but the brat just seemed glad about his earlier words. "Give me the bottle for the potion."

Pulling out the empty bottle, Harry obediently handed it over. "How'd ya know it was in your coffee anyways?" He wondered.

"The smell." Francis answered simply. The vial was empty; he wouldn't have to worry about his drinks being spiked with love potions.

"Oh. Yeah." Thinking back, Harry remembered the book saying something about smell, but he skimmed past it.

"Finish your breakfast. We'll start training in a few hours." And he gave the boy a rather toothy smile. Mentally, Francis noted not to let Harry wander about Hogsmeade unwatched again. Who knew kids needed to be kept under constant surveillance? 'If I let the kid out at all that is.' Francis thought and smirked to himself.

* * *

Sorry about the long wait. x.x Plot bunnies have been biting, just the wrong ones. Happy New Years everyone! (And this counts as good luck for updating on New Years. I was NOT! 7 minutes late! D": /sobs)

Also: Ha! I can't believe you all thought that Mr. Experienced Wizard McKnight wouldn't notice a potion in his drink! x'D *Evil face*

Some scenes didn't make it into this one; those ones are lined up waiting for ch5 (Partly typed out). So, I imagine ch5 will end up being posted sooner rather than later, which good news.


	5. Chapter 5

"Why, Albus Dumbledore! You shouldn't have stopped by on such short notice!" _Or ever, _she amended to herself. "Can I make you a cup of tea?" She asked, wanting to get away from her former Headmaster to get her thoughts in order.

"Yes, that would be wonderful Arabella. Thank you." Dumbledore spoke in a calm, gentle manner with his infamous twinkle in his eyes at full blast. With his acceptance she moved away from the fireplace where her visitor sprang forth from.

"One lump of sugar or two?" Arabella called out from the kitchen where she busied herself with boiling water and fetching saucers and cups.

"Five; I'm afraid I have a bit of a sweet tooth." She could practically hear the sheepish grin that formed on his face.

"I see," Arabella replied dryly. _What does he want?! _She thought bitterly to herself. _Now, after all these years, must he torment me with his presence again?_ Having a wizard in her house, in her small abode on Wisteria Walk in Little Whinging, wasn't something that she ever wanted to occur. Especially when the wizard was the Wizarding World's ever popular Albus Dumbledore, her old Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _What more could he possibly want of me?_

Arabella hated everything that had to do with the Magical World, a world that had been moved beyond her reach since her childhood. A world she was no longer welcomed in. _My, my. How quickly times have changed,_ she sharply thought as she caught a reflection of herself in a nearby pot. While Albus Dumbledore was nearing five hundred, she was just in her mid sixties and much closer to death's door than him. _Barely a fraction of what a proper witch should live_, Arabella despaired. She fully looked her Muggle age with gray hair and countless wrinkles.

_Time goes by so suddenly... _She could still remember her first train ride to Hogwarts, the boat ride, her first class. Her first friend. _Friends! _Even thinking the word filled her with contempt and burning hatred. _Don't forget how fast your friends and family betrayed you! _Her hands shook in ire and caused her to drop a cup she held.

"Is everything alright, my dear?" Came the inquiry from the living room.

The question brought her back to her senses; this wasn't the time to think about the past. She had a wizard to get out of her home as soon as possible. "Yes, just a little accident..." Grabbing the saucers, cups, teapot, and sugar she went back to her uninvited guest. He could pour his own sugar.

"Everything's alright, I trust?" Arabella asked, not caring about the answer in the least and poured a cup for herself and one for her guest.

Dumbledore took the offered cup and gave his thanks. "Yes! Yes, of course. Things in Hogwarts are as great as always..." Dumbledore started babbling about the affairs of people, marriages, children and their foolish pranks, but Arabella wasn't paying any attention; a word ensnared her and echoed through her mind. _Hogwarts..._The very mention of that place always caused ruefulness to swell up in her; It was just too hard to think about the reminders of her past, about a life she no longer had.

"Enough!" She snapped out, interrupting the man's talk. "Why are you here?!" She wanted to get to the heart of things, to what inspired this surprise visit.

Dumbledore was taken aback by this sudden change in the other's demeanor; Arabella had seemed pleasant enough when he first arrived. _Did I say something that offended her?_ He was confused. He couldn't figure out what he said to elicit such a response. "Well, I'm terribly sorry if I made you upset somehow, but... Ah, well, I'm just here to check up on the status of Harry Potter."

"The quality of care he receives is quite exceptional." _Exceptionally poor that is._ "The attention he has rivals the kind I had from my own family." With that she took a sip of her own tea and gave Dumbledore a vindictive smile. _After they found I was slowly losing my magical powers and would soon be nothing more than a squib, that is to say._

"Excellent! Excellent; That's good to hear." He spoke with a relieved expression on his face. "Frankly, I was worried a bit. You see I had the worst dream ever. In it Harry was--"

"You're here because of dream?" Arabella questioned in utter disbelief.

"Yes, well, it was horrible! Harry--" Dumbledore's face bore a sheepish grin.

"Well, if you don't trust my word I invite you take a look for yourself at the boy's condition; It'd do everyone a lot of good." She spoke with an offended look on her face.

The truth was it had been awhile since she had seen the boy running about in the neighborhood. Which was odd, considering Harry usually could be seen fleeing from his whale of cousin and loitering about outside. _Avoiding his home, I suppose_, she thought to herself. It wasn't as if she could hold that against the boy, Arabella knew firsthand what it was like to be in a household where you were unwanted. Shaking her head, she tried to put such thoughts out of mind. It wouldn't do any good to start sympathizing with the boy now; it was much too late for that.

Her mind drifted to an argument she'd overheard when she was taking her early morning walk awhile back, in which Arabella heard the words "freak" and "won't have it in my house." It would only be too good if the Potter brat got kicked out for having magic while she herself lost her home because of the lack of it. The irony of it made her smile with glee these last few weeks.

_It's just karma's retribution. After what his parents did, someone has to take that payback. Who else better than the spawn of that cruel man and the so lovely and brilliant woman? _James and Lily Potter. James bloody Potter who teased her mercilessly with his friends about her condition after he found out from snooping. _Not that Lily was any better, not with her fake concern on her face. She must have been so delighted to find out that her sole academic competition was going to be out of the picture before long. Before the end of my third year even..._For a second, Arabella's face contorted in pain; Whenever she looked at the Potter's spawn all she could see was the face of the boy who teased her and the eyes of a girl who struggled fiercely with her for the top spot in classes.

"Check for yourself then," Arabella challenged. "You know I never volunteered for this task; In fact, you forced it on me yourself. I'll be glad to turn this observation business over to you." A part of her was still appalled from the man's last visit, the one where he came asking her to keep an eye on the boy. Saying how she already lived in the area, that it'd be perfect. How it wouldn't be too much work or anything. _How could he possibly think that after fifty years with no contact with the Wizarding World, that I'd just do anything they needed, no problem? _Arabella mentally scoffed.

"You know I can't do that," Dumbledore chastised her lightly. "I'm afraid I simply do not have the time to watch over him. And I obviously cannot make contact with him. I want him to grow up normal in a loving home, not glorified and praised by the wizard masses."

"You can't expect to keep him away from all of that. What about when he goes to..." She paused, not wanting to say the name of _that_ place. "When he gets his letter? He'll be introduced to the Wizarding World soon enough."

"Of course, there isn't a way for me to keep him away from all of that, but it is my hope that when he is old enough to attend Hogwarts he'll be grown enough to deal with it without letting it go to his head," he replied firmly.

"You might be convinced that it'll be enough, but I'm not. Just look at his parents." Arabella said smugly.

"Nonsense. James was a bit arrogant when he was a child, but he did grow up into a fine young man. And Harry does have Lily's blood too. She was a perfect lady; Everyone was impressed with her. Surely you don't begrudge James still for, well, figuring _that_ out? The students were bound to learn the truth one day, Arabella." He gave her a pointed look over the top of his spectacles.

"Of course not, Headmaster, I am far too old to be hung up on trivial things like that." Arabella said with an overly sweet smile adorning her face.

"Not that old, my dear. Besides, I believe Severus still holds lingering resentment. I fear it'll transfer over to Harry when he's at Hogwarts." Dumbledore confided to her.

_Not that old? Ha! But, who could blame Severus? _She thought. _James tormented me for three years, but Severus was there for all seven years. I can't imagine James and his little crew of friends being any nicer with a few years tacked on them. _Not for the first time, she wondered about Severus. He was still decent to her after her condition came out. "Should I expect anymore unannounced visits from you?"

"No, I'm sure you'll owl me if anything goes awry. I'm terribly sorry for bothering you like this; rest assured it won't happen again. I'll leave Harry in your capable hands." Dumbledore's business had been concluded and he finished his tea. _There's certainly nothing left for me to do here, _he thought and, with a smile and a wave, he said threw some floo powder into the fireplace and departed.

"It's a shame I haven't had an owl since my school days, Headmaster." Arabella spoke to the empty seat that the Light Leader once occupied with a cruel smile on her face.

* * *

At last, Francis took him to the training room.

"Here will be the center of your training. It might not look like much now, but the room is magically enhanced to transform to match your needs; As long as they obey Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, of course." Noticing the blank look his young charge's face, he elaborated. "It's a principle that states what powers magic has to create or destroy matter. Basically it's the magical version of Law of Conservation of Matter and Energy." Harry blinked twice, then stared at Francis.

"Which is?" The boy finally asked when Francis didn't explain that.

McKnight indulged in some staring himself. _I guess seven year olds don't know any scientific principles, _he thought with a shrug. "I thought you read that book on magical theory you were attached to last week. You had it at hand for a month; Surely you learned something from that?" Questioned Francis, half amused and exasperated at the boy's lack of apparent knowledge.

"Err... It didn't explain Gamp's laws?" The boy spoke with a look of utter confused terror. "It mentioned that with magic you can't increase or decrease the quality of matter..." Harry was nervous at the sudden unannounced quiz. _What will Francis do if I mess something up?_

He continued on, figuring that it was better to say something and get it wrong than to not say anything at all. _Partial credit? _He hoped to himself. "It went on in detail about how magic can't be used to create something from nothing, but can be used to change something's form. The amount of magic it takes to change something's form depends solely on the starting object and the desired object. The total quantity of magic available in the universe is a fixed amount and never any more or less. It also talked about how wizards merely tap into the magic in themselves and surrounding them...Uhh...." He thought hard, but he knew he was forgetting some stuff. Harry was too anxious at Francis' response.

Francis' response was laughter. "Yes, those are a part of Gamp's laws alright; They're a set of principles founded by Hesper Gamp. You described the manipulation of magic and the lack of effect magic has on the quality of matter. You're forgetting a few key points, though; How magic simply cannot create new life or bring someone back from the dead. How you cannot produce true emotions in people, only imitate them. What is considered a true emotion is still being debated to this day, but everyone agrees on _love_ being one of them."

There was a look of full concentration on Harry's face while he listened to Francis' lecture. He turned over the words again and again in his head, struggling to make sense of them. Harry may have repeated complex theory back at Francis, but he never meant to give the impression of fully understanding them. "Can I get that on paper?" He finally asked.

This caused more laughter to erupt from Francis. "Sure thing, kid. Later, I'll introduce you to the Pensieve; That'll allow you to review past memories. Something tells me you'll need to review a lot of things I'll teach you at a later date."

"That sounds great. Oh!" Harry exclaimed, his brain latching onto something Francis' said. "You can't create true emotions, such as love; That's why even if the potion I tried to use on you worked it won't end up being _love_-love?" He asked with a contemplative expression.

Silence. Francis twitched at the memory of _that _incident. "...Yes."

"Oh, I was wondering about something. That potion, it had an _alluring_ scent based on the drinker, right? What did you smell?" Harry asked with the innocent curiosity only a kid could possess.

"Tha-that doesn't matter." Francis quickly tried to nip that invading personal question in the bud. He didn't want to discuss the events that led up to what happened, nor the people involved or the end result. The kid was too young and Francis had no desire to linger in those past memories.

"C'mon! Tell me, please?" Harry pestered with determination. If it had to do with Francis then he wanted to know. He _had _to know.

Arching a single brow, Francis' mouth set into a tight line. He was not going to give into the child's trivial desire to know. While a good dose of curiosity was healthy, an excessive amount could easily become a vice. Besides, he already had too much of a soft spot concerning the boy as it was. It'd be beyond stupidity to bare his heart, soul and past to the untested youth; He resolved to ignore any useless questions the boy had.

Turning on heel, Francis moved from the large room with sparse furnishing, knowing his ward would follow. And he was right, of course; Harry was right behind him, following like an eager duckling.

As Harry left the enchanted room that inspired their earlier talk of magical theory, he saw it become hazy for a moment and then start to contort, _probably to Francis' will_, he supposed to himself. It shrank some, becoming less vast, but it was still spacious, except now it was circular.

_How is it lit up? _Harry wondered to himself as he accompanied Francis to a smaller, adjoined room that lay beside it. There wasn't any sort of torches or lamps in either rooms. _I guess that's magic for you. _He wouldn't ask Francis such a stupid question of how it was that these rooms were being lighted. Instead, he'd figure it out for himself sometime, he vowed. Harry didn't want to appear that unintelligent to Francis, to the point of not knowing how a lousy room was brightened.

This new room was tiny compared to the other, even after the bigger room changed its size. But it had many racks, stands and shelves that housed things that Harry didn't even know the name of. The floors were just like the others, some sort of wood that shined with a finish. The place had a menacing feel to it. _It doesn't even need torches flickering_. The place was disturbing enough even with the unknown lighting that brightened the room up.

"Will it hurt?" Harry couldn't help but to ask.

"Undoubtedly." Francis indulged the boy's silly question with a response.

"Will I be humiliated?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Most assuredly, but I'll do my best to contain my laughter at your feeble attempts." Francis had a huge devilish grin on his face which did nothing to calm his nerves.

"Thanks. Can't wait to start," Harry mumbled, cursing at his earlier eager nature. But who would have guessed that Francis wanted to jump right into things without so much as a "here's the basics?" _I bet this is his retribution for yesterday. _Sighing to himself, the boy tried to steel his nerves. His ass would be thoroughly kicked, he was most likely going to be injured and probably be too sore to sit. He closed his eyes and prayed that he might somehow make it out mostly alive with all his limbs intact.

"Okay, since we cleared that up..." Harry trailed off and walked over to the intimidating tools of carnage. Examining each one closely, he wondered if it even mattered what weapon he choose for this faux of a fight.

Some were blunt, others spiked or barbed, but most of them were sharp and pointed. Their shiny impeccable metal gleamed back to him in invitation and whispered encouragements to him. _"Touch me! Pick me! Give me a try!" _With care his fingers fluttered lightly over the different instruments. Francis didn't give him one hint to which he should wield, it was fully his own choice and he wished for some sort of guidance. _If this was a test, shouldn't I have been taught the answers in some form beforehand?_

Francis observed his young charge carefully, wanting to see what he decided to use. He kept his face neutral, not wanting to influence the boy's decision in any way. It wasn't perfection he was looking for in all of this, he didn't expect the kid to simply pick up a weapon and be able to perform the complex deadly dance that only two sparring fighters could achieve. No, he wanted this trial by fire for one simple reason; to reveal the boy's nature. Through all of his prior experiences, Francis knew firsthand how one's nature and personality revealed themselves in combat.

An Ax Warrior simply didn't have the patience or will in them to heal or sit idly around in the backlines merely defending the frontlines, nor does a healer have it in them to harm. It'd be wasting time, energy and potential to press axes on Harry and force him to wield them if that was not where his talents lied.

At best, years of effort could turn someone against their very nature and instincts, but the product would be very mediocre and average at best. And average would not do at all if he was to give the kid enough value and worth to be spared. His Lord would have to _know_ that it would best to have such a lad serving, otherwise he wouldn't waste a second with Harry's, or his, death. Francis hoped the boy would have decent instincts; he could only shape them so much and they'd have to be worth their weight in gold someday.

It was heavy, too heavy, and stuck in place. Harry struggled to get the ax out of its holder; desperately, he put his hand on the side and planted a foot on its case. With one final tug it flew out, Harry, who was unprepared for the shift in weight, tumbled over and hit the floor hard. The ax slid across the floor several feet away.

"Looks like we don't even need to start for me to hurt myself." Grumbling, Harry stood back up and shot his mentor a glare as the man started to chuckle at his expense.

Francis swooped down, picked up the ax and held it out, offering it back to the boy. "You wanted it?"

"No." Harry answered back, sulking. "I just was curious about how heavy it was."

Going back to the situation at hand, Harry's eyes roamed the armory. It seemed as if Francis had galore of each type of weapon in different materials, styles, and sizes. _Preparing for a small war are we? _He thought darkly to himself.

While the gloss of metals caught his attentions earlier, Harry now noticed the dull brown of wood weapons. Staffs, bows, and even wooden forms of swords captured his eyes. They looked as pristine as the others, but Harry had the feeling it had less to do with meticulous care and more of a lack of use entirely. _Wood... Those have to be lighter than the metal ones. _But, was he suppose to use a metal weapon or wooden one? Turning slightly, he tried to gauge his mentor's thoughts. Francis' face was as unreadable as ever, not even a stray hint of emotion adorned his face.

With a sigh, Harry turned back to his predicament. It was quite clear that the man wouldn't be offering him any help. _Wood weapons can be used in practice, right? But, I don't want him to think that I'm scared to use a metal one. Or that I'm scared I'll hurt him. And I doubt Francis would hurt me now..._Not after everything they'd been through. If Francis wished to cause him harm, surely the man would have acted upon it by now? Memories of being told stories, spells and just talking with the other filled his head. They even ate together like a real family would, his mind supplied. Of course, he trusted Francis, he had every reason to and none not to. _If I choose a wooden weapon, it could imply I don't trust him, or that I'm not serious about learning. _Harry didn't want to give the impression of not trusting the other, nor was he scared to learn. Francis wanted him to learn and study and he certainly wouldn't go against those wishes, not when it was something so vital.

Harry passed by the wooden weapons without a second glance back, he decided to struggle with a weighty _real _weapon instead. As he circled back around to look closer at arms, Harry saw the walls on the opposite side of the room. They were filled with shields secured in place on them, many larger than himself even. _Do I need to pick one of them out too?_ The weapons themselves seemed weighty enough to give him much trouble handling them, but the shields looked twice as heavy as them even. There was no way he'd be able to attempt to wield a weapon and a shield at this moment. _That certainly gets rid of some choices I'll have to make. _All he had to do was to find a weapon to wield already! Harry was beginning to feel self conscious about how long he was taking.

_Axes and maces...No, too big, too unmanageable. Pikes and Spears..._Harry stared at them for a moment. _I'll trip over the end of them for sure. Swords? _Harry paused at them. He kind of had an idea of how one would utilize them. When he was at the Dursley's house the telly would play a fantasy movie with knights and swords every now and then. Harry had managed to see a few scenes of people exchanging blows, when Dudley couldn't find the remote that is. He doubted he could do anything like they did in the movies, most of those things were probably special effects anyways. At least he had good guess how to use such a thing. Moving to the sword section of the armory, Harry peered at each one closely.

While Harry figured he wanted to use a blade there still was far too many choices! Thin swords, huge bulky thick swords, long ones, there were just so many options! Straight, waved, curved, single pointed, double edged, ones that had a strange diamond tip to them, and there were even some that looked like what Muggles usually gave Death, a reaper-like sword. All these variations came together and merged, producing even more offspring's of choices.

His eyes drifted around, Harry's mind overwhelmed with weapons once again. He saw a separate section, filled with what looked to be shorter swords. _Shorter should mean lighter and hopefully easier for me to use_. With that in mind, Harry trudged over to them.

_Knives? Daggers? _He thought as everything began to jumble together. It was just too many options! The daggers ranged from all sizes, the smallest ones were around six inches, and the largest daggers were a few feet in length. Some seemed to be around the same size as the shorter swords. _What is the difference between a short sword and a long dagger? Daggers and knives seem to be just mini-swords to me... _Harry was filled with exasperation! This was just such a difficult thing to decide!

The theory of his, that daggers were pretty much just swords just smaller, seemed to be proven true as he studied them. They had similar shapes, designs, edges, and handles.

_Daggers or swords... _They both were bladed, metal and sharp, well, most of them at least. _How am I going to make a choice between them? _A large sigh escaped him and he was forced to think and make decision based on non existing information he had. Obviously, he couldn't use the really short daggers for a practice session; they'd probably be too short.

_Short sword or long dagger? _Harry heard a sound coming from the other side of the room, a foot was tapping. Twitching, he couldn't help but start ill wishing the other. _This is your entire fault anyways. You should've just told me what to grab, _he thought, absolutely peeved.

Perhaps it was the ill wishing that made him finally choose to use daggers, instead of the more honorable sword. But, whatever the reasoning was Harry didn't care, he made a decision.

Reaching out, he carefully positioned a smaller dagger under the band of his empty wand holster on his arm; the dagger seemed to be an inch or so from his own wand in length. Francis had told him earlier to leave his wand, that they wouldn't be using it now. He did so, but Harry left the empty holster on anyways. His back was to Francis, so he knew the older man didn't see him slip the smaller dagger on him. _I'll have a trick up my sleeve rather literally, _Harry thought with a smile.

Picking up a twin double edged blade he examined it closely. It had a long blade for being the dagger that he guessed it to be. It was two feet long of cruel metal that glittered back at him, conspiring. The blade was strangely partially wavy towards the ornate guard, but was straight for the rest of its length.

_Is that just decoration or does the wavy bit of it have a purpose? _Harry pondered to himself. Grabbing the dark, slightly curved hilt he tested it. He nodded to himself, liking the feel and weight of the blade. It was heavier than anything he previously carried about from his Muggle life, but wasn't nearly as heavy as that ax he first tried to pick up. _Yes, I doubt anything from my Muggle life can compare to any of this.._. Francis, the magical world, especially these finely crafted blades he held. None of it was remotely akin to his old life and he reveled in it.

Ignoring the sheath, he wouldn't be needing them, Harry palmed the blade's twin. With them in hand he turned around to Francis.

_Daggers huh? _Francis had watched the boy wander here and there; inspecting the collection of weapons he had about. The boy's pause and dismissal of the wooden arms interested him; It would've been the smart thing to pick up a wooden weapon, they were designated practice ones after all. But, the boy didn't. Francis knew the boy wasn't an idiot, just hadn't had a proper teacher yet. He was curious why the kid would pass over them. The boy took so much care in considering what he would handle that it couldn't have been a desire to try and show off that directed the boy. "That's your choice? You sure about that?" Francis asked mildly.

"Yup." Harry replied with a look of certainty on his face.

_Daggers. _Strangely, it fitted. _Well, he did try and slip me a potion in my drink. _It was something clandestine that dagger users were known for. Francis was never one to have disdain for a certain group of people, if Harry was going to be more of a shadow walker than frontlines or even supporting backlines then so be it. _Can't change someone's nature. _Walking over, Francis picked up a favorite ax of his and jerked his head towards the door. It was time to start.

Anticipation and excitement seized Harry. _I hope I don't disappoint Francis too badly. _He entered the previously changed circular room and took to the other side of it. Francis exited the armory and its door melted away as Harry struggled with his hold on his blades. _They're not baseball bats, _he reminded himself. Francis started to move and Harry mirrored his steps so that they were circling each other like angry cats about to clash. One of his blades hit the ground and youth struggled to right them. _Mind their positions_, he chided himself.

Francis stalked near him and his sinister ax lashed out a strike. Quickly, Harry raised a blade forward to block.

_Clang! _

The sound of metal hitting metal reverberated through his bones. The force of impact wasn't something he prepared for. His fingers tightened reflexively on his weapon and his arm felt strained. The strength it would require to not only wield his blades correctly, yet to guard and attack surprised him.

Backing off, his mentor changed directions and charged at him again. Meeting another oncoming blow, Harry braced for impact. This time he wasn't distracted by the feel of the onslaught, but his grasp was faulty for his blade flew out of his hand across the room. _I'm glad I grabbed twin daggers for this. _Now, he could still salvage things and continue. _I didn't know what to do with two blades anyways_, he thought consolingly.

A follow up strike surprised him and Harry was forced to dive out of its way. His shoulder hit the ground hard and he swore he heard the cracking noise of a bone breaking. Pain flooded him and he gritted his teeth together in retaliation. He suspected it wouldn't matter to Francis right now that he was injured; it was probably the point to all of this.

Since Harry knew that he couldn't just dodge blows all the time, he tried to score his own while there was an opening. Lurching forward he swung his sword at the other.

_Clank!_

While an ax was far from the best weapon to defend oncoming attacks with, it was possible to do so and Francis, the experienced user he was, managed to deflect the assaulting blade with little effort.

Stumbling back from the clash of their weapons, Harry tried once more to catch the other unaware and aimed low towards the legs. Francis gave a nimble roll out of the way, avoiding the inexperienced slashes. Attempting to press his advantage Harry kept after the surprisingly agile bulk of a man. Attack after attack missed their mark and the frustration at his thwarted assaults skyrocketed. If only he could get one blow in!

Suddenly, Francis stopped dodging and went on the offensive. Harry was forced to block and evade several down-coming swings. They were all narrow misses and he could feel the swish of air from uncomfortably close hits. Harry stumbled about, scantly recovering in time from one attack to dodge another--and another--and another, without making any swings of his own and without getting any proper footing down.

With a pause, Francis drew back some, then rapidly started to lunge at him. Harry tripped and fell over his own feet; his dagger sailed across the floor, out of reach. He didn't have either blade in hand, so he couldn't counter or parry, but he could still elude the ax's reach. With every last ounce of agility in him, Harry responsively rolled though his aggressor's legs and ended up behind Francis. The concealed dagger screamed its presence to him and he quickly palmed it and struck at the back of Francis' neck.

As quick as lightening, Francis spun around, halted the deadly strike directed at him and knocked it out the way. It was as if the man had a sixth sense to him. _How did he-- _in an instant, Francis was standing over him, his ax pressed firmly against Harry's throat in the "kill" position.

Harry eyed where his larger daggers were accompanying each other on the other side of the room. _Must be a twin thing._ There wasn't a way in hell he could regain one of them before Francis was on him again. There wasn't a way for him to escape the sharp blade pressed against his throat, either. Sweat dripped from his body, falling to the floor. He was exhausted, his arms were sore, his body bruised up and his shoulder was possibly broken. _This has to be the end of it._

"Uncle?" Harry tried, dropping his once concealed dagger to the floor. The blade removed itself from his neck, which he was very grateful for, and Harry dropped to the floor, tired beyond all measure.

"Not too shabby kid." Francis spoke at last and ruffled his head.

Leaning into the touch, Harry mentally congratulated himself. "Yeah?" He asked, hopefully.

"I certainly hadn't noticed that third dagger of yours..." He praised the boy a bit. _That's good instinct. Thieves and assassins both needed to have tricks up their sleeves like that,_ which were the primary wielders of daggers.

Harry deflated and protested, "You went easy on me though..."

"Kid, if I didn't go easy on you then you'd be dead. Besides, an untrained youth matched against a seasoned veteran, the outcome of that is fairly obvious." Francis pointed out, "You should be proud of yourself, you didn't do half bad."

"Really? Then okay." Harry beamed at his mentor and stretched out. "Well, if we're done here there's a bed that I wanna--"

"Who said anything about being done?" Francis asked, raising an eyebrow.

"But! We can't... I can't possibly do another round of this right now!" He declared, dumbfounded. _There isn't a way I could survive another round before I pass out! Sleep! _His brain cried out sharply resisting the idea of another fray.

"I know that, I'm not going to make you practice blades again until tomorrow." Hearing this, Harry slumped in relief. "But," Francis continued, "That doesn't mean we're done yet. You obviously know nothing about weapons or how to--"

"Yeah? Well, who's the one who decided to have this little fight before you taught me anything?" Sleep! He wanted to sleep damnit!

Giving his ward a hard glare, Francis demanded an answer from his charge. "Are you questioning me?!"

"No sir!" Harry jumped to attention.

Unable to ascertain if the boy was mocking him or not, he'd decided to dole out a punishment later. "Now, we're going to start on the basics. Since you're a raw beginner you're going to be doing push-ups, sit-ups, jumps and twisting exercises for most of the afternoon. One must be limber in a fight to turn and weave quickly." Francis McKnight wasn't a dagger user himself, but he'd been around enough battles to know what each profession excelled in, needed to work on and their weak spots. He'd train the boy right with blades.

As Harry got to work doing the exercises as directed, Francis continued with his little lesson. The boy would have to be able to focus on multiple things at once and he told him as much. "In a real fight you're going to need to be able to focus not only on your opponent, but your surroundings, the environment and any possible allies that could interfere. You must be able to carefully observe your foe, to be able to take advantage of any slips they make. To get inside their head, to analyze the patterns of their attacks and use it to your favor."

With a pause, Francis corrected the position of the boy; He wouldn't have any wimpy push-ups here! "Now, those daggers you were using, they're called Kalis'; They're double-edged blades that can be used for both cutting and thrusting. The wavy portion of it is said to be meant to facilitate easier slashing in battle-- since a straight edge tends to get stuck in the opponent's bones, the wavy portion is suppose allow the Kalis' bearer to easily pull the weapon out of his opponent's body. Questions?"

Huffing, Harry paused mid push-up to ask, but was given a kick. "No stopping!" Glaring at the floor, he tried to get his question out. "Difference...between...daggers and knives?"

"Daggers are mainly for slashing, knives for cutting. Although, an interesting thing about the Kalis is that, while it is considered to be a slashing weapon, it has a special thrusting power which is very dynamic. Also its durability and sharpness can be comparable to the Japanese Katana."

_...Okay? _Harry thought to himself, but wasn't stupid enough to verbalize. Francis sounded like a rambling professor one made the mistake of asking the wrong question to. "And the difference between short swords and long daggers?" He interrupted his mentor's monologue about blacksmiths and forging.

"...All daggers are primarily for piercing and stabbing purposes, swords, however, usually fair better with cutting, with a few notable exceptions. You'll be proficient in both by the time I'm done with you. You'll have to be able to passably use other types of weapons too, though. You'll never know when you'll have to wield an ax or staff. Although, lances are something you'll probably be able to forgo..." Francis broke off from his lecturing to tell Harry to switch over to sit-ups. "Gaining expertise in a ranged weapon as well as a close quarter weapon... That's a must if you want to last long.

"Now, the thing about blades is their styles can vary so much. While the wavy part is suppose to help remove itself from the body of an opponent, there is many other features you'll see with them. A diamond tip and thickened point help to strengthen them for use against mail-- err, armor," Francis changed so that Harry could better understand. "Some blades are curved to get around an enemy's shield."

"Daggers. Different, but all sharp; Got it." Harry's body hated him and what he was making it go through. _This is just torture I know it!_

"Actually, not everyone has their blades sharpened. Some, in fact, _dulls_ the tips of their blades purposely to minimize its habit of embedding into bone, which causes it to become difficult to withdraw." Francis' eyes were bright; apparently talking about weapons was a great joy for him. _Considering the amount of weapons he has, it's not surprising._

Harry was twisting and jumping around as orchestrated, feeling like he was in some bad yoga practice gone awry. "Flexibility, agility, and evasion; these are all important qualities for you to develop. I know of your parents and let me tell you, neither of them can be considered a towering menace. You probably won't grow to be that tall so you'll have to focus on intimidating people through other methods."

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked in a rush.

"I--" Somewhere in his lecture, Francis let his guard down too much. "I said I knew _of _them. Does it matter really?"

"No." And it didn't. Harry didn't have his parents now, just Francis.

Francis went back to mostly one sided discussion, as if his slip never occurred. "You'll use more intelligence than strength with blades; I don't expect to see you charging in at me anymore. You're supposed to read your opponent and use their weaknesses against them. To subtlety manipulate your surroundings, like I said earlier, to your advantage. You _must_ master your timing, footwork, extension and balance." With that, Harry was shown some footwork practices that Francis mentally timed. To challenge the boy more he'd try to strike at the boy, trying knock him over.

"My shoulder!" Harry gasped out, clutching a hand to it. _When will this end? I need to rest and heal!_

"I'll give you a healing potion when I think you're finished for the day. You have to get use to not being in tiptop shape all the time. You'll have to fight when you're tired, hungry and possibly hurt." Francis spoke and prodded the boy back into more drills.

"And your grasp; It's simply horrible! Here's how you _should _hold a blade." Inwardly Harry groaned to himself, not willing to do so out loud and gain more work. Francis was quite clearly trying to work him to death.

-------------------

Despite any praises Francis might have dished out earlier, it was soon apparent to Harry that he must have done nothing right at all. The next hour he spent learning how to fall. This was, quoted from Francis, "The most basic movement in fighting." Falling, Harry quipped to Francis, was something he certainly knew how to do, which earned him a blow to his head that caused him to topple over. Francis merely smirked at him and said, "Apparently, you didn't know how to fall as well as you thought."

Harry learned quickly how to bite his tongue and keep comments to himself. He fell, trying to slap the ground as he hit, trying to take his weight on all the right places, creating new aches and bruises whenever he faltered. He fell again and again until Francis finally allowed him to change activities. _He's certainly teaching me out of order_. If this was the most basic move, shouldn't he have been taught it first? _Maybe he wanted to get me to do footing practice first so I could tire out and he could beat me up,_ Harry thought to himself. He wouldn't question Francis, though, that would only gain him more drills as punishment. The sooner he complied with the man's orders the sooner he'd be able to go to bed, Harry hoped.

The next hour saw him placing a shield on a bruised and aching left arm. The purpose of this exercise was to teach him how to use the shield as a defense, he was told. "But, if I'm using two daggers at once then how can I use a --"

"You might start off with two blades, but what if you lose one like today? What if one breaks, or you're caught weaponless? Shields don't have to be this kind," he spoke, holding up a small Buckler. "Picking up an object and using it as a makeshift shield in the field is a common practice." With a sigh, Harry finally gave up attempting any reasoning with the man.

The exercise commenced. If he succeeded, he stopped the oncoming blow. If he didn't, Francis landed a smarting rap on the part of him he had left exposed. Lacking any proper armor, Harry was pretty certain he'd broken quite a few bones before they ended. But as it was Harry learned how to stop a blow aimed at his side, torso and head. Which he thought was a pretty good trade off, even if he felt as if a herd of horses trampled over him. Luckily, they didn't trade off positions, which Harry was glad for; He didn't think he could manage any halfway decent strikes now.

Harry was staggering with weariness when Francis finally called the day to an end. He trudged out of the enchanted room towards the bedroom. _I need sleep to process all of this._

Francis' hand shot out and caught him before he could make it to his sanctuary. "You have to take a bath; There's no way I'm sleeping next to anything that smells like you. Then you'll have dinner."

"I'm not hungry and I can sleep in my own room," Harry replied, irritated and wanting nothing more than to slumber for the next twenty years.

"Hey, you're getting off easy! Because it's your first day I _am _cutting you slack. I didn't make you run laps yet or switch on the shielding practice which I will do tomorrow, nor clean your blades. Also, I am delaying your first potion lesson that I'll give you in the morning. You will not get that sort of consideration from me tomorrow, believe me." McKnight spoke firmly.

Tiredly, Harry gave his thanks. It hardly felt to him like he was given any slack, but his suffering body clearly remembered the extra rounds of punishment drills they went through and he kept his mouth shut. He certainly wasn't going to do anything to receive any more of them.

_How can I pay him back for his generous consideration? _Harry asked himself. _I can't beat him head on..._Abruptly, Harry's mind recalled Francis' earlier lecture; what a better way to get his revenge than by using Francis' lessons against him? _Observe your foe, peg down their weakness and manipulate your surroundings to set up the perfect trap._

Harry would show Francis how adept his timing could be! _I made it through your testing, but will you make it though mine? _With a smirk, his body was filled with a rush of pure energy. Anticipation danced through him, but Harry wouldn't charge in blindly as he did earlier, no. He'd bide his time, study his target and come up with a flawless plan for payback.

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**AN:** Woo~ To date this is my longest chap yet! And I have this terrible feeling I'm going to be typing that a lot for this fic… x.x I want to give my thanks to my itoko, YaoiCookie for beta-ing. Due to her influence all ' for 'thoughts' have been decimated. (Are you happy about that?) It's a habit I've gotten into due to instant messaging screwing with my thought formatting… I'm in the process of switching over the old chaps of this to the "italics only" thought format. (And fixing a few grammar issues I noticed in them) And I also want to thank twii for her pre-post read.

**About the change in Harry's wand:** Yes, the wood is different. This was done because I thought that it'd suit this Harry in my fanfic better. I left the core alone so, meh. I didn't realize anyone would be um, so... concerned about it. And yes, I did do research into the magical properties of wand wood, x'D being the major geek that I am. What's funny is that I started off researching different wood in wands because of a different fic that has yet to be posted on ff.n (Death Incarnated). It'll make it here someday. As soon as I write a bit of it, polish it up some and YLW gets finished... *blushes*

**About Arabella Figgs:** For those who do not know, Arabella is Figgs' first name. And yes, she's different from canon. To me, this was much more interesting and it certainly solved the problem of "why doesn't Dumbles know Harry is missing?"

Err... I made up a bit of Gamp's Laws up. Some of it is from canon, but I added on it, basing it on what I think the magical version of the law of conservation of energy and matter would be…

Also a "ha!" To those who _really _wanted to know what Francis smelled from that love potion. Maybe, just maybe one day you'll know.

Finally! The training that was mentioned waaaay back in ch2 is started! And woo~ Harry is becoming a bit darker than before! It has to start off slow ofc. When Harry grows up a bit more under Francis' care rest assured he'll be more dark than cutesy. I know he's been real fluff ish and it has bothering me too. Like, where the darkness man? Your warning was a lie! But meh. We can't just jump into killing/killer!Harry without so much as establishing the how and the why...

As always feel free to check my profile for more information regarding pending/upcoming fics, current status of this fic and any possible information regarding the time of the next update. See everyone in ch6! =D Thanks for reading and/or reviewing, hope you enjoyed!


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